


What We Cannot Have

by WiliQueen



Category: Blood Ties
Genre: Attempted Rape, Gen, Possession, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-05
Updated: 2011-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-16 02:49:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WiliQueen/pseuds/WiliQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old friend's betrayal turns Coreen's night out into a nightmare. Good thing she has real friends around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Cannot Have

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly written, but not completed, before the show's events rendered it a bit AU for reasons that will become clear. I was going to rewrite it to adjust to canon, but after leaving it sit for a couple years have decided I like it best the way it is.
> 
> Much gratitude to my very patient betas, Amilyn and DarkMagess, for insightful feedback, catching silly mistakes, and putting up with my canon-based fretting.

Serpentine, like any club, was noisy and crowded, restless bodies in velvet and studs and mesh negotiating the dance floor or retreating to niches in pairs and occasional threesomes. Henry stood a few paces from the bar, scanning the chaos for a familiar face or scent. He hadn't been to this place in about two months, more than enough time to safely revisit any of the young thrill-seekers he had met here. If none of them turned up, there was no shortage of likely candidates, but he had work to do tonight. He wasn't in the mood to start fresh with a stranger.

He was even less in the mood to catch a sharp odor with a peculiar bitter undertone, masked by some concoction involving far too much grenadine. Someone else was on the hunt tonight, and not for food.

There -- one of the tall tables with two stools, the nondescript boy focused a little too intently on his companion's face. With her back to Henry, the girl was all black gauze, purple corset, and straight black-cherry hair. With that style, in this club, she might be anyone. Then she laughed, turning her profile to him for just a second.

Not just anyone.

He was _not_ in the mood for this.

He crossed the distance in less than two heartbeats, confident that anyone who might notice would blame it on a trick of the light. Coreen was so startled she dropped her half-empty glass to shatter on the floor, saving him the trouble of taking it away from her.

"Henry! Where did you -- um, hi --"

"Wait."

Not pausing to observe her reaction to this, Henry turned to her would-be conqueror, who was staring at him in open-mouthed shock. It took no time at all to locate a small paper packet in an inside pocket of his coat. "Is this all?" Henry demanded. When the boy gulped and nodded, he went on, "Where did you get it?"

"M-made it."

"How? Where did you learn this?"

The boy gulped again. "This...this book I got. At, um, this estate sale. It said--"

"Never mind what it said." Henry stepped toward him, putting all his will behind his next words. "Go home. Burn the book. Never try to make this again. Never come back here."

The boy stared at Henry for a few seconds longer, mouth still hanging open, perhaps trying to form a reply. Then he made for the exit, colliding with several people in his hasty retreat. Some hunter.

"Craig?" Coreen called after him. Hopping off her stool, she took a few steps before apparently realizing she would never catch him. She pivoted back to face Henry. "Okay, what just happened?"

"You know that guy?"

"Only since grade six. What did you take from him? What are you doing here, anyw-- oh. Whoa."

She took a lurching step sideways, reaching for the table and missing it completely. Henry caught her shoulders before she could fall, setting her back to a reasonably stable approximation of upright. "Questions later. Is Vicki at her place?"

" _That's_ a question."

"Coreen."

"She's there, she's there. Something about... um... tax assessment records?"

He couldn't help smiling a second at that image. "How glamorous." He grabbed her handbag from the tabletop and handed it to her. "Come on."

With a hand at her back to steady her if needed, he turned to find a bouncer blocking their path, his bulk planted squarely in a spot calculated to get Henry's attention without posing too overt a threat. "Is there a problem here?"

"No problem," Henry answered neutrally. Under other circumstances, a bit of a confrontation might have been amusing. But the man's attitude was entirely professional, he didn't care to be tagged as a troublemaker, and Coreen couldn't afford any wasted time. "My friend isn't feeling well. I came to give her a ride home."

The bouncer studied him impassively for a few seconds, then turned to Coreen. "That true, miss?"

She started to nod, then stopped abruptly, wincing as her head evidently protested the movement. "Home. Yeah. Home's good."

"Okay, then." Satisfied, the bouncer turned back to Henry. "No offense, man. Wish I saw more of you kids looking out for each other."

Henry stifled a smirk. "Thanks."

Once they were on the street, the bouncer having seen them safely to the door, Coreen burst into giggles, a sound he had never really expected to hear from her. "'You kids.' You get that very often?"

"Not if I can avoid it," Henry answered, steering her toward the valet stand and handing over his ticket. She kept giggling for a moment, then abruptly fell silent, clamping a hand over her mouth and going rigid. "Coreen?"

"Think I'm gonna be sick," she mumbled around her hand.

He doubted they would be that lucky, but he certainly wouldn't stop her from trying. She doubled over for what seemed like minutes, drawing uncomfortable stares from the other two valets waiting at the stand. They got more uncomfortable when Henry fixed them with a glare. "What? Do you expect the lady to wait? Until she's in the Jaguar, maybe?"

"'Sokay." Coreen stood up shakily, now leaning on him outright. Her body's attempt to purge the toxin had failed. "I'm okay."

"No. You're not." The car pulled up to the curb, and he guided her faltering steps to it as the valet hurried around to pull open the passenger door. "But you will be. Careful, watch your head."

He pulled a bill from his clip at random, thrusting it at the valet. Judging by the young man's surprised expression, it was probably the fifty; he'd have to make sure he got exemplary service next time. He didn't even pretend to give them a chance to get the driver's door for him, climbing in to find Coreen fumbling with her seat belt. When he reached to help her, her hand was cold and shaking, and clutched his tightly as soon as the latch was fastened. No more giggling tonight; she looked completely miserable. "I need that to drive," he told her.

She just blinked at him, until he raised their hands into her line of sight. "Oh! Sorry."

"No apology required." Henry set her hand in her lap and put the car into gear. Her heartbeat was slowing as he listened. "Stay with me, Coreen. We'll be there in a few minutes."

She frowned. "Vicki's? You said home."

"Not yet."

"Just need sleep. Don' wanna tell Vicki."

"No!" Keeping half an eye on traffic, he reached over and shook her shoulder. "No sleeping. Tell Vicki what? That she might as well not have bothered risking her life and getting marked by a demon lord, since you're clearly determined to get yourself killed anyway?"

He was hoping for indignation, or at least defensiveness -- anything to keep her focused a little longer. It seemed bleary confusion would have to do. "What? No, I just... 'S not a demon or curse or whatever. _She_ wouldn't need rescued 'cause stupid didn't watch drink."

"Maybe not," Henry allowed. "If that's what you're embarrassed about, don't be. Your friend Craig is playing with bigger fire than that. You can't just sleep it off, and we could use Vicki's help." Pulling into a parking space in front of Vicki's building, he added, "Besides, we're already here."

None too soon; Coreen had nodded off, probably without hearing half of what he'd just said. He raced around to the passenger side and pulled her to her feet. That quickly proved to be a lost cause, and he carried her into the building at top speed.

~~~

From the urgency in Henry's voice calling her name from the outer office, Vicki expected him to be wounded and starving. Possibly on fire. She didn't expect to find him striding in her front door with his arms full of apparently unconscious Coreen. She ran over and closed the door behind him, asking, "What happened?"

"No time." Henry swept a glance around the room, then nodded at the reception area couch. "Pull that to the middle of the floor. Make sure there's space around it."

As soon as she had complied, Henry set Coreen down on it. She was awake, but only just, and shivering. "Keep talking to us, Coreen," he urged her, pulling off his velvet jacket and draping it around her. "Just a little longer, I promise. Then you can rest."

Coreen blinked at him, obviously disoriented. "Henry? Where's Craig?"

"Halfway to Niagara, if he has any sense at all," Henry grumbled, stepping back and motioning to Vicki to take his place.

He took off somewhere behind her as soon as she had done so. Coreen struggled to focus on her. "Vicki? Oh. Right. Henry said we were coming here."

"And here you are," Vicki agreed, kneeling in front of her. "What happened? I thought you were going out with a friend."

"All work and no play." Coreen managed a shaky smile. "Never had a boss who said _that_ before."

"Yeah, well, neither did I," Vicki said. "Thought I might set a trend."

The unholy racket behind her sounded like Henry was ransacking every drawer and cabinet in the office. She craned her neck as far as she could, but couldn't quite get him in her field of vision, so she contented herself with calling out, "Henry, what are you _doing_?"

"Trying to keep her alive," came the curt answer. "If you want to help, talk to her, not to me."

Vicki was about to fire back something snarky, but stopped cold when she saw Coreen's head drop forward. "Hey!" She gave Coreen's cheek a few sharp pats, until the unfocused eyes opened and met hers again. "That's better. Don't scare me like that!"

"Like what? Sorry. Wha'd I do?"

"Look, I don't know what's going on here, but Henry's pretty determined not to let you fall asleep. I assume he knows what he's doing" -- she pointedly raised her voice on that part -- "so keep talking, okay?"

"Okay." Coreen's gaze wandered over her shoulder. "Why's he making fire on my desk?"

"What?" Vicki jumped to her feet and whirled around just in time to see Henry shake out a match as green and orange flames flared and then died down in one of the big coffee mugs. The acrid odor that wafted over seconds later was nothing short of nauseating. "Augh! What _is_ that?"

"The same compound that's poisoning Coreen. Don't worry, the ashes are harmless. Do you have any chalk?"

"My desk, middle right-hand drawer." Henry vanished into her office and was back with a stick of yellow sidewalk chalk before she had finished drawing breath for her next question. "How is this helping? Why are we not in the emergency room?"

"Because they can't help her." He snatched up the mug and crossed back to them. "And yes, I know what I'm doing. You can let her lie down now."

"What? A minute ago you were -- "

"Buying time. We were never going to have much. Now let her lie down, and move away."

There wasn't much choice; Coreen was out again, tilting rapidly to one side. All Vicki could do was make sure she didn't hit her head on the arm of the couch, and back away as Henry instructed.

He was already in motion, grinding the end of the chalk into the mug and tracing a circle on the floor around the couch with the resulting mixture of chalk and ash. Vicki allowed him to complete it in silence before asking, " _Now_ will you tell me what the hell is going on?"

"What we've seen so far is side effects," he replied, setting the mug aside and not taking his eyes off Coreen. "The primary purpose is to open her up to possession by a minor demon, one that can't come into our world any other way."

The bottom dropped out of Vicki's stomach. "That stuff you burned."

"Yes. Her so-called friend slipped it into her drink."

"Oh, God." She pulled off her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose. It didn't help much. She put them back on. "And she was worried she wouldn't have anything to talk with him about anymore. She said he would never believe the things she's seen. I guess he knows all about it after all."

"Not necessarily."

"What else would this be about?"

"The spell is a trap -- for the one who uses it. The grimoire will say it's for 'invoking the spirit of desire.' I doubt he knew it meant that literally. He probably just -- "

He cut himself off at Vicki's startled hiss. The marks on her wrists were suddenly uncomfortably hot, and glowed bright orange for a few seconds. "I think we have company."

Sure enough, she looked up to find Coreen sitting suddenly bolt upright, staring at her with a weird little smile. The demon had probably seen the marks -- or smelled them, or whatever demons did -- and assumed she was the one messing with magic.

"Well. Not what I expected." There was something not quite right about the way the thing in Coreen's body was using her voice, but Vicki couldn't put her finger on it. Certainly the fluid way she rose to her feet was nothing like the young woman's familiar impulsive manner. She shrugged off Henry's jacket with a roll of her shoulders that would do Mata Hari proud, her frank gaze raking Vicki from top to toe and back again. "Not that that's a bad thing. I appreciate variety."

Before Vicki could come up with a reply, Henry stepped in between them. "She didn't summon you." He moved a few steps back to the left, keeping well clear of the chalk circle, drawing the demon's attention away from her with every ounce of royal attitude at his disposal. "Deal with me."

"Even better." Just for a second, the curious tilt of the head could have been really Coreen. "But you must know this sweet morsel already wants you, nightwalker. Why do you need me?"

Henry's answering smile was almost more unnerving than the demon's. "Maybe I appreciate variety too."

"Mmm. That sounds _very_ promising."

She perched prettily back on the couch, tucking her hair back from one side of her neck. It looked like nothing so much as a stock glamour pose in a cheesy mall photo studio, and it should have been laughable. But there was still that hungry smile, the greed in her eyes that was anything but Coreen, offering her throat to Henry with no concern about whether he would be careful with the gift. Vicki suspected this thing would be happier if he weren't.

"You forget your place," Henry said. "Do you expect me to come to you like a lapdog?"

"It has its rewards."

"Don't presume, demon." He held out an inviting hand, just far enough from the circle that she would have to step out of it to reach him. Was that what he was up to? Would it trap the demon but let Coreen pass? "You're here on my terms."

A flash of annoyance crossed Coreen's face, then the creepy smile was back as if she had never dropped it. "Very well." She stood up, took a step forward and started to reach for him, then pulled her hand back sharply as if burned. This time the smile didn't budge. "You tricky bastard."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I was taught otherwise. You'll pardon me if I prefer my father's opinion to yours."

She stood glaring at him for a long moment over the frozen, infuriating smile. Then she unpinned the costume-jeweled brooch from her corset, held out her left hand palm up, and very deliberately drew the pin along her wrist until blood welled up. Vicki held her breath, clamping down on the urge to leap forward and stop her. She had next to no idea what they were dealing with, but she knew a hostage situation when she saw one. This wasn't the time to move. All she could do right now was hope the demon needed Coreen and wouldn't do her more than superficial injury.

Henry's nostrils flared reflexively as the thing raised Coreen's hand and turned her wrist toward him, but otherwise he might as well have been made of stone. "Fresh and sweet and all for you. What _have_ you been waiting for?" She wiggled her fingers at him in a cutesy wave, the trickle of blood tracing a meandering red line to her elbow. "No?" She heaved a theatrical sigh. "Fine. Have it your way."

Then she -- _it --_ was clawing at her wrist with her fingernails, leaving long red welts and ragged scratches up her forearm. God, was Coreen aware of all this?

As if in answer to the thought, Coreen's voice spiraled up in a childish cry of terror. "Vicki? Vicki, it's hurting me!"

"Stop it!" Vicki shook off the restraining hand Henry laid on her arm. He should know better; she had no intention of crossing into the circle. But she wasn't about to listen to this either. "Coreen, if you can hear me, just hold on. We're going to get you out of this."

"Vicki, _please!_ "

"Stop pretending," Vicki snapped. "We're not stupid."

The demon just laughed at her, but at least it stopped mutilating Coreen's arm. "Congratulations. Do you think 'not stupid' will be enough?"

"If not, there's always stupid to fall back on," Vicki shot back. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Vicki -- " Henry started in that warning tone, the one she really hated sometimes.

She ignored him and plowed on, stalking around the circle as a substitute for heading straight at the thing the way she really wanted to. "You think you're in control here, is that it? That's some delusion you've got there."

The demon turned to follow her. "But I have what you want. The girl has been consecrated to me. She's mine to use as I please."

"Yeah? And how much can you please in six feet of diameter?" The glare was positively murderous now, a furious flush showing through the china-doll makeup. "What, no answer for that? Let's see you come out here and shut me -- "

Vicki cut herself off in mid-taunt with a yelp of surprise as Coreen's waifish little form hauled the couch off the floor and chucked it at her. She dodged, but of course Henry was faster, staggering slightly but stopping it before it crashed into the wall. She'd have to thank him later for not having to explain _that_ to her landlord.

"Is that all you've got?" Vicki challenged. Making a show of examining the empty floor around Coreen's feet, she went on, "Oh, look. I guess it is."

"I still have the girl," the demon reminded her. "I can drive her to exhaustion without leaving this spot. I can take the pleasure I was summoned for in her shame and degradation. I can tear her flesh to ribbons and glory in the sensation."

"But you still won't have what you want," Henry answered. "You'll get nothing from it, any more than I would from drinking my own blood. You need to use her to corrupt others."

He wasn't just telling the demon he had its number, Vicki realized. He was trying to brief her on it, without making it obvious that she didn't already know. So it wasn't just trapped in the circle, it was isolated, and it couldn't stand that. It craved... contact? Sensation? _"The pleasure I was summoned for."_ And what Henry had been saying before it showed up -- had Coreen's date thought he was just giving her some kind of love potion? That was bad enough, but...

"I have an audience." The creepy smile slithered back across Coreen's face. "That will do for a little while. See what happens when you have too many pets?" She shook her head in mock sympathy. "Why should you care that I torment this one, or make that one watch? But you do."

Vicki had planned to keep her mouth shut and see if Henry could sneak in any more information for her benefit, she really had. But she couldn't hold back a snort at that one. "You can't _make_ 'this one' do anything. I still don't believe you can afford to do much to Coreen. And yes, by the way, she has a name."

"So she does. Poor thing. Didn't anyone ever tell you? A name is nothing but a way for others to gain power over you."

"Right. Because that worked out so well for you a few minutes ago."

"Didn't it?" With no warning, Coreen's hands clutched at the sides of her head, and she curled in on herself in apparent agony. " _VickeeeEEEEEEEEeeeeeee!"_

It seemed impossibly long. The second it started, Henry zipped behind Vicki, grasping her arms as if holding her back. "Keep at it. Hurting her loosens its hold." His voice at her ear was covered by the scream, but she could just make it out.  "I know it's hard to watch, but we don't have a choice."

Coreen ran out of breath before he finished the last sentence, but it was just as well if the demon heard that part. "But you do have a choice," it said. "Breach the circle, let me out, and all this will stop."

"You know we can't do that," Vicki said.

"And we know it won't stop," added Henry, stepping away from her again. Splitting its focus, good. "You'll use her until she breaks, and then take another."

Vicki crossed her arms, trying not to think too much about what he meant by _breaks_. "Not exactly an attractive offer. So what else have you got?"

"More of this, if you prefer," the demon replied, tracing bloodstained fingers over the awful scratches on Coreen's arm. "All this pretty young skin. There are far more satisfying uses for it, of course. And far less painful for her."

"How do we know she even feels any of it?" Vicki moved around the circle to stand opposite Henry, where she could see him. "So far all I've seen is your bad impression of her."

Henry picked up the thread, forcing the demon to shift its attention between them. "She's right. You could prove it, but you don't dare."

"And then I rise to the bait, and you challenge me to let the girl speak for herself." The demon clapped her hands like a kid at the circus. "Oh, may I, please?"

"Wow. You can't even do good sarcasm." Time to ignore everything she knew about hostage situations, Vicki reminded herself. It was getting too calm and smug again. They needed to piss it off. "What _are_ you supposed to be good at, exactly?"

"Beauty without truth," Henry answered before it could. "Lust without passion. Greed without satisfaction."

"All dressed up with nowhere to go." Vicki shook her head. "You must have thought you'd hit the jackpot with Coreen."

It sneered. "I've had better."

"Oh, come on. You're dying to take her out to play and you know it."

" _She'll_ die if I don't."

"She'll die if you do," Henry said. "I've seen what you leave behind."

"What do you think I'll leave behind if you keep me here?"

If the demon could get dizzy, it had to be by now, head whirling back and forth every few seconds to confront them in turn. But were they making it angry?

"Go ahead and show us," Vicki said. "You're not going anywhere but back where you came from."

" _No!_ " The ferocity of the denial was unexpected, but it was exactly what they needed. "She's mine! I _will_ take my pleasure in this world!"

Vicki couldn't help wincing as Coreen's fingernails dug into her wrist again, bringing fresh blood to the surface.

"I'm not the only hungry one here, nightwalker! This blood spills whether you take it or not. Don't be a fool!"

"I won't." Whatever Henry might be thinking, he showed nothing but ice.

The tactic obviously wasn't working, but the demon couldn't seem to stop, scrabbling at the scratches with a wordless cry of frustration. Then the sound trailed off and it paused for breath, head bowed, hands dropping to Coreen's sides.

No. They couldn't let it rest. "Come on," Vicki started, "that can't be all you -- "

She stopped cold as Coreen looked up at her, pain and confusion etched on her face. If this was another trick, it was miles better than anything she had seen so far.

This was it. "Coreen, come over here."

"Vicki? How -- what --"

"Just walk," Vicki told her, as firmly and calmly as she could manage. Way more so than she felt.

Coreen took a hesitant step toward her, clenching her jaw so tightly that Vicki heard her teeth grinding. She made it another half-step before stopping, her toes inches from the circle on the floor. The determined intelligence looking out of her eyes was still Coreen's, Vicki was sure of it. She just had to force her body a little bit farther...

"Coreen!"

Vicki nearly jumped out of her skin at Henry's sharp voice to her left. More importantly, so did Coreen, her head whipping around to face him. He had moved back toward Vicki around the circle, just outside her field of vision if she focused on Coreen.

His eyes went dark and alien, locked on Coreen's. "Give me your hand."

She obeyed in agonizing slow motion, but she never stopped. Vicki caught herself holding her breath again as the bloodied fingertips crossed the boundary line and kept creeping forward. She was just registering a weird low keening sound when Henry seized Coreen's hand and pulled, jerking her out of the circle. The keening erupted into a horrific shriek that split bizarrely into stereo for a second before Coreen cut it off, clutching Henry's shirt and catching her breath in ragged gasps.

But the scream was still going on, flat and tinny like a bad cellphone connection. Inside the circle a copy of Coreen clenched its fists in cartoonishly impotent rage. The demon must not have a form of its own, and if it did, Vicki was willing to bet she didn't want to see it.

Let it rage. Right this second, all she cared about was that it was out of Coreen. Not without cost -- the scratches on her arm weren't half as alarming as the shocky look on her face, and Henry was obviously holding up more of her weight than her own feet were. Vicki rushed to help him settle her in the nearby chair, and wound up with Coreen clinging to her hand while he turned back to confront the shrieking thing in the circle. The sound had ceased to bear any resemblance to a human voice, stretching far beyond any human lung capacity.

Okay, now she was starting to care. She could ignore it -- up to a point, anyway -- but this was the last thing Coreen needed. "Coreen, look at me. Don't even listen to it." The only response was a tighter grip on Vicki's hand. "Henry, tell me there's a way to make that thing shut _up_."

"We don't have to. Look."

At first she didn't know what he meant, but then she saw it. The image's color was draining away, dark and dull in contrast with the real Coreen's purple corset and red lipstick and wide blue eyes. The screaming stopped, and then the demon was studying Henry thoughtfully, jumping from one expression to the other with the abruptness of a film cut.

"You're done here," he said. "You do know that, don't you?"

It ignored the question. "I had you all wrong. It's not the pretty painted one you want at all." The figure wavered, then solidified in Vicki's image. "Is it?"

They should have seen that one coming. Judging from his lack of reaction, Henry probably had. Vicki hoped she was being equally cool, but seeing that same creepy smile on her own face wasn't making it easy.

It was still losing color, her olive T-shirt and faded jeans copied as nearly gray, and the edges of the figure blurred when it moved. The black symbols on the wrists, though, showed sharp and clear as the demon lifted its hands to look at them. "You don't lack for audacity, do you?" it mused. "Coveting what belongs to my master."

Henry walked deliberately to the edge of the circle, looking the image in the eye and not quite smiling. "I was there first," he said. "Tell your master that if you like."

She'd have to give him an earful about that one later. The demon appeared to be trying to, but no sound was coming out. Henry turned his back on it, and by the time he had taken the half-dozen steps back to Coreen's chair, it had faded out of sight.

"Is that it?" Vicki asked. At least she _sounded_ calm.

"As far as the demon is concerned," Henry answered. "It can't use the same door twice. That means you're safe, Coreen."

She looked up at her name, finally pulling her gaze away from the spot where the demon had stood.

"You're safe," Henry repeated. "Do you understand?"

Coreen nodded, then said very clearly, "I really am going to be sick this time."

"Henry, wastebasket."

He was moving before the words were out of Vicki's mouth. Disentangling her hand from Coreen's, she grabbed the wastebasket from him and got it into place just in time. While Coreen retched, Henry reached behind her and deftly unlaced her corset, setting it aside and leaving her free to breathe easier in the loosely fitted dress underneath. Vicki wouldn't have thought of it, but then she wouldn't have been as efficient about it either. There was a "practice makes perfect" crack in that. Better to let it slide, all things considered.

Coreen seemed to be finished throwing up, though she stayed bent over. Vicki waited a few seconds longer to be sure, then set the wastebasket several feet away, hopefully far enough to keep the smell from setting off another round. When she turned back, Coreen had propped her elbows on her knees, her head still bowed over them.

"Coreen?" she asked. "How are you feeling?"

"Like my head is full of rocks," came the slightly muffled answer. Slowly, cautiously, she sat up the rest of the way. "Is it really ungrateful if I kinda want to curl up in a corner and die now?"

"Yes," Vicki deadpanned. "But we'll forgive you."

"Thanks." There was something like a laugh in there. "Bleh. Brain won't work."

Vicki shot a worried glance at Henry. "The opening spell is negated," he explained, "but a couple of the herbs are pretty potent on their own, and they're still in her system. It will pass."

Good enough. "Sounds like I have a houseguest, then," Vicki said. "Better get those scratches cleaned up first. I'll be right back, Coreen."

"Uh-huh." Coreen frowned down at her bloody forearm. "How did I do that?"

"You didn't," Henry pulled the coffee table closer and sat on it, watching her face carefully.

"But I remember..."

Her right hand shook as she lifted it, and Henry held up his open hand to block it from her line of sight until she set it back down. "Never mind that. You're not responsible."

"Henry, your shirt!" Coreen stared in almost comical horror at her own handprints on his otherwise immaculate grey dress shirt. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry!"

"Never mind that either." No doubt he had been aware all along of Vicki pausing in the doorway to the inner office, and he gave her a quick nod before turning his focus back to Coreen.

Of course he could handle her, agitated as she was. He was no slouch at intimidation when it was called for, but he deserved more credit -- and had more use, really -- for that knack for making someone feel safe. Hell, it had taken all of about six minutes when Vicki had come to on his couch that first surreal night, and she'd started from the assumption that he was the killer she was after. Coreen already trusted him.

Sure enough, by the time she got back with the first aid kit and basin of water, Coreen was curled cozily into the chair, resting her head on the back. She looked tired and very young, but no longer so worryingly fragile, and the anxious edge was gone from her voice. "And I'm worried about _him_. I'm crazy, right? He doesn't deserve it."

"If we deserved forgiveness, we wouldn't need it. Whether to show him that mercy is up to you." Henry favored her with his best reassuring smile.  "And it's not a choice to make when you're drugged and exhausted."

"I guess."

In her shoes, Vicki couldn't imagine wanting anything but this Craig guy's head on a platter, whatever their history. Then again, half the time she didn't get what went on in her assistant's head when she was running on all cylinders. "Hey, Coreen." Vicki took a seat next to Henry on the coffee table, wringing the excess water and antiseptic from the washcloth and reaching for the injured arm. "This is probably going to sting. Sorry."

"'Sokay." The sleepy absolution was followed immediately by a sharp hiss as Vicki started cleaning the scratches.

Vicki winced in sympathy. "Sorry," she repeated. "Try not to pay attention, okay?"

Taking that as a cue, Henry obliged with a distraction. "That doesn't look very comfortable," he said, one hand blurring across the top of Coreen's head. He opened it with an elegant flourish to reveal the clips that had anchored four tight twists of hair back from her forehead. He might hate real magic, but it wasn't the first time Vicki had wondered if he'd made a study of the rabbits-in-hats variety at some point. Even without the inhuman speed, she had a hunch he'd be damn good at it.

He certainly had misdirection down. Not that keeping Coreen's attention on him was exactly a challenge, with a crush the size of the SkyDome working in his favor. Hopefully she wasn't too out of it -- or was out of it enough -- to take his concerned attention for what it was and no more.

"Did you mean it?" She couldn't keep her eyes open and wasn't making sense, but the mouth kept going.

"Mean what?" Henry asked.

"The bouncer," Coreen mumbled. Maybe she was just talking in her sleep now. "You called me your friend."

"Of course you are," he answered, smoothing back the hair falling into her face. "My very tired friend who needs sleep."

"Yeah. 'S'jus'..." There might have been a thought there, but after a few seconds it was clear she wasn't going to finish it.

Henry waited a moment longer to be sure, or, more likely, he could tell when she was really asleep. Then he snatched up the washcloth and got abruptly to his feet, standing a few paces away to scrub off the traces of blood from holding her hand. He took a couple swipes at his shirt before giving up, but it seemed to bother him less after that.

Vicki finished taping down the last gauze pad. "You okay?"

"Fine."

He handed the washcloth back to her, and she cleaned up Coreen's hands as well as she could. The blood under her fingernails would have to wait. The poor kid was really down for the count; she didn't so much as twitch.

Vicki got up and pushed the coffee table back into place. It was a start, anyway. "How about next time we're setting a trap for a sex demon, we rearrange your place for a change?"

"Are you planning to make it a specialty?"

"Oh, I've sworn off planning anything. Waste of time."

"You might be onto something." Henry nodded toward Vicki's office. "I'll move her to your couch."

Vicki blew out a resigned sigh. "Let me pull out the bed. At least somebody will get some use out of it tonight."

She cringed inwardly as she heard the words come out of her mouth, but Henry didn't even give her an amused glance on his way to scoop Coreen up from the chair.

That couldn't be good. "Okay, I couldn't have handed a you a juicier straight line just now if I'd tried."

"Probably not."

"You're still worried."

"Yes."

He didn't elaborate, just started walking. Vicki double-timed to catch up and open the pull-out. Then they got Coreen's shoes off and got her tucked in without a word.

Back out front, Vicki closed the door behind them. She'd had just about enough silence. "Tell me this is over."

Henry stopped in his tracks. "I can't."

"But the demon _is_ gone, right? And it can't...get to her again?"

"It is, and it can't." He sounded sure of that, but he didn't look any happier for it.

"What are we talking about, then? Come on, you said you'd seen it before."

"I said I'd seen what it left behind," Henry corrected.

Vicki stared at him. "You didn't know for sure that thing with the circle would work, did you?"

"I was sure it would hold the demon," he said. "Whether we could get Coreen out... That depended on her."

"And if she couldn't do it?"

"It would have been better than the alternative. For her, and for anyone who would have crossed her path." His scowl lightened. "Fortunately, she's stronger than she seems. I'm surprised she didn't collapse the moment she was free of it."

"Maybe that would have been easier. At least she's getting a break now." She headed across the room to right the couch and push it back into place. "Figures she would get into trouble doing something completely normal. I used to think I had all the luck."

"She shouldn't have been there."

Vicki looked up, surprised at his tone. "Henry, she's nineteen. What do you expect her to do, stay home and crochet?" She tossed him his jacket. "If they all did that, you'd starve."

"Very funny."

"What? That is what _you_ were doing there, isn't it?"

"It would have been," he answered. "You may have noticed that nobody's evening has quite gone according to plan."

She waved a hand, indicating the circle on the floor and the wastebasket she wasn't looking forward to cleaning out. "I noticed, thanks."

Henry picked up Coreen's purse from where he had left it on her desk, pulling out her phone and flipping it open.

"What are you doing?"

"I told her she was safe." The phone beeped as he paged through menus. "I keep my word."

"What are you -- ? Never mind. I'm coming with you."

"She shouldn't be left alone."

"Then maybe you should stay with her."

"I have tools for dealing with this that you don't."

"You really think we need them to handle one stupid kid?"

She didn't get an answer, because Coreen picked that moment to wake up screaming. The completely human sound was a weird sort of relief even as Vicki ran into the other room. "Coreen! Whoa, Coreen, it's me. You're okay."

"Vicki?" She calmed down quickly enough, although she still seemed half asleep. "Did we stop it?"

There was no telling whether she was talking about the demon or about some random nightmare, so Vicki just assured her, "Yeah, we stopped it. You're safe, just like Henry said."

Speaking of whom... Damn. She should have been suspicious when he hadn't gotten here first.

"Go back to sleep, Coreen. I'll be right in the other room."

"Mm-hmm."

She closed the door quietly, and was unsurprised to find no Henry in the outer office. She headed for Coreen's desk intending to call his cell, then discarded the idea by the time the phone was in her hand. He knew damn well she'd be spitting nails. He probably wouldn't even pick up.

Fine. She was stuck here for now. Didn't mean there was no plan B.

One thing you could say for Mike Celluci: He always answered his phone.

 ~~~

Craig Malloy's address proved to be a low brick apartment building from the 1960s, as nondescript as the boy himself. Apartment 2F was at the end farthest from the street, making it all too easy for Henry to break the lock on the balcony door and slip inside unnoticed.

If he had been human, he might have guessed that nobody was home, but the rapid heartbeat behind the closed door to his left proved otherwise. He looked around the living room first, taking in the worn hodgepodge of furnishings, no doubt cast off by family or rescued from dumpsters. Hallmarks of the young making their own way, by choice or otherwise, in a modern city. The walls were decorated haphazardly, mostly with weathered concert posters.

At the other end of the room sat a small kitchen table whose better days were far behind it and two mismatched chairs pushed against the wall. The plain white mortar and pestle with their trace of pungent herbs were the only new objects in sight, surrounded by the most prosaic of cheap kitchen containers and utensils and a pair of pillar candles. There was a bare spot whose size and rectangular shape suggested a large book, with a stack of snapshots next to it.

In the top one, a half-dozen teens in goth finery gathered under a banner reading "Kitchener Alternative Prom 2005." Coreen's infectious smile shone at the center of the group, impossible to miss in spite of the heavy jet-black bangs partly obscuring her eyes and the choppy purple ends just above her shoulders. It took a moment longer to recognize the boy with his arms wrapped around her from behind; Henry had only seen photos of Ian Reddick after the demon was done with him. Malloy stood to one side, conspicuous by his plainness among the elaborately attired group, his t-shirt and black jeans virtually identical to those he had worn at Serpentine.

How long had he coveted her in silence? Long enough to take desperate and foolhardy measures, obviously. To think he needed to, even though the one she had chosen no longer stood in his way. To reach for magic when honest friendship would have been the better choice in every possible way. No misleading grimoire could begin to excuse that.

Beyond the closed door -- the slight echo indicated a bathroom -- the heartbeat shifted suddenly from rapid to frantic, accompanied by a choking sob. Henry sped across the room and yanked the door open. Malloy stood by the sink, gripping a matte knife in trembling fingers, an inch from his wrist.

"No!" Henry grabbed his hand, knocking the knife loose to clatter into the sink, and spun him around to face him. "You don't get to escape that way."

"Wha--?" Malloy sputtered. "How -- who --?"

Ignoring the half-formed questions, Henry pulled him from the tiny bathroom and pushed him against the wall next to the door. "You don't get to make her read your obituary too." Scowling at the grimoire on the side of the sink, he added, "You were supposed to burn that."

"I wanted to, but it wouldn't let--" The boy's eyes widened in shocked recognition. "You're that guy from the club!" He pushed pathetically against Henry's unyielding arm across his chest, giving up in seconds. "What are you gonna do?"

"Your little trick could have cost Coreen her soul," Henry informed him. "What do _you_ think I should do?"

"Is...is she okay?"

"I don't know yet. You don't deserve to."

No answer, just another feeble push against Henry's arm. He pressed in tighter, enough to make the boy's every breath a reminder of his powerless position.

"What do you want?"

"A pleasant meal and a quiet night at my drawing table. But since you've made that impossible..."

The crisis had been enough to distract him from hunger. Cold anger and lingering worry increasingly were not. He would be worse than poor company for any lover tonight. This was a night for taking without remorse, from one who deserved nothing in return.

Malloy's terrified tension evaporated at the piercing of his throat, almost in relief. Guilt, fear, confusion, perhaps a dash of thwarted desire, all colored the taste of his blood. Not what Henry had had in mind when the night had begun, perhaps, but it had its own satisfaction.

The apartment door banged open to his right, and he looked up in time with Mike Celluci's half-whispered "Oh, shit."

It was the only outward sign the man gave that he was anything but completely in control of the situation. His heart was pounding like a cavalry regiment, of course, nothing he could do about that. But the hands holding his pistol were rock-steady, narrowed eyes masking any apprehension. "Back off, Fitzroy."

"Because of that?" He flicked a glance at the gun, then back up with a smile. Not a pleasant one, he knew, but Celluci didn't waver.

"I don't have to worry about it killing you," he pointed out. "Reminding me of that is probably not your smartest move right now."

"Do you know what he did?"

"Vicki told me. Back. Off."

Both held their ground a moment longer, then Henry nodded and released Malloy. He took his time about it, partly to annoy Celluci, but also to be sure the boy would remain standing on his own. There was little need to worry about the latter. By the time he had taken two steps back, Celluci had holstered his weapon and pulled out his handcuffs.

"You're _arresting_ him?"

"Of course I'm arresting him!"

"For what?" Henry challenged. "Inflicting demonic possession isn't exactly in your jurisdiction, Detective."

"Maybe not, but attempted rape sure as hell is. Or did you miss that development? I guess things do change pretty fast these days."

"Did _you_ miss that I scared him off before he laid a hand on her?"

"If you're looking for a good citizen medal, you should have stuck with scaring him."

"That's not my point. You should know that better than I do."

Celluci sighed. "Yeah, I get your point. The punishment probably won't fit the crime."

"Because the real crime is nothing they'll believe."

"Well, what else am I supposed to do? Let you finish him off?"

"If that were my intention, I wouldn't have stopped him from doing it himself." Henry glanced over at Malloy, obviously frightened but following the debate lucidly enough. "He can still forget we were ever here. And remember that he will never contact Coreen again."

"You can do that?" Celluci frowned suspiciously. "To anybody?"

The implication was clear, and Henry answered it as succinctly as possible. "Most people. Not Vicki."

"You're sure about that." It wasn't a question, even partly. "You tried."

"And failed. That's not the topic at hand."

"No, you know what? There's no topic. I'm taking him in, and you're leaving. End of topic."

"Fine." Henry snatched up the grimoire from the sink. "When you can't prove anything, don't blame me."

"Out."

"All we have is my word..."

"Out."

"...and Coreen's, assuming she's even up for it -- "

Before Celluci could order him out again, Malloy spoke up. "And mine."

Celluci gave the boy a long, measuring look. "Meaning what, exactly?"

"If I confess, then that's it, right?" Malloy looked pleadingly from Celluci to Henry and back again. "Coreen won't have to...go through all that?"

"It's not that simple," Celluci told him, "but yes, it would make it easier on her."

"Good. Let's go."

"Fine with me." Celluci glared at Henry, daring him to argue further. "After you."

There were a hundred things he could have said, but this night had been long enough. He contented himself with a nod that wasn't quite a bow, the courtesy exaggerated just enough to verge on insult, and walked downstairs and out to his car without looking back.

 ~~~

Vicki looked up from Coreen's desk at the sound of the front door. Loaded down with takeout bags, Mike was finding the doorknob one too many things to hold onto, and she hurried over to give him a hand.

"Thanks," he said, gratefully relinquishing a couple of the bags. "How's she doing?"

"Well, she slept all day, so 'starving' is probably a safe bet. Have you _seen_ what that girl can put away?" More seriously, she went on, "She's been up for forty minutes, and the shower has been running for thirty-five. Your guess is as good as mine. So, the Malloy kid is talking?"

"Yeah. The model of cooperation and remorse."

"Has he said anything... complicated?"

"What, you mean about how his drug of choice came out of some old hocus-pocus cookbook? Or maybe about how the self-appointed hero tracked him down to make a three a.m. snack out of him?" She looked up sharply, and Mike scoffed, "Let me guess, Prince Valiant didn't mention that part? Why am I not surprised?"

As angry as she had been at Henry herself, Vicki couldn't help bristling. "I haven't talked to him," she informed Mike tightly. "But if I had, I doubt he would have bothered lying about it."

"You're right. I wouldn't." Henry stood framed in the doorway with his arms crossed. Not quite as arrogant a stance as he had taken with the demon, but not all that far off.

"Kid's gonna have nightmares for a year," Mike growled, his hand rising to his own neck. He managed to turn it into a casual gesture of frustration, but it was obviously not just Malloy's nightmares he was thinking about.

Henry’s eyes narrowed as he took in the gesture.. "If nightmares make him think twice before betraying anyone else's trust, I'm perfectly content to feature in them."

"Great. How content will you be to go in and make a statement?"

"That depends on what I'm expected to state."

Mike seemed a bit taken aback by this; obviously he had anticipated no cooperation at all. "He hasn't said word one about you showing up at his apartment. They'll just want you to verify what happened at the club."

Henry gave a small nod of assent. "I don't foresee a problem with that."

"With a slight detour into why you didn't take her straight to the ER, or call the police right away."

"I guess I wasn't thinking." In the blink of an eye, the bone-deep confidence of prince and predator had been tucked almost completely out of sight. If he still stood a little straighter and looked at you a little more directly than the average kid, it only contributed to the earnest impression. "Look, my friend was in trouble. I was just worried about getting her out of there. It's not something you really expect to have to deal with, you know?"

Damn. There stood Mike in open-mouthed astonishment, ripe for the mocking. And Vicki couldn't get away with a word, because she was sure she was wearing the exact same expression.

Even more annoyingly, he regained his composure first. "Okay," he said matter-of-factly. "That base is covered."

"Sure, if he can keep it up for more than thirty seconds," Vicki challenged.

"Of course I can. When it's necessary." Clearly it wasn't at the moment; that smirk was pure cocky Henry. "My appearance does have its advantages. Beyond the obvious, that is."

Vicki shook her head. "We really must do something about that tragic lack of self-esteem one these days."

The smirk broadened into a grin. "What did you have in mind?"

"I can think of a few suggestions," Mike muttered.

"Put a sock in it, you two." Vicki jerked her head toward the bathroom, where the sound of the shower had finally stopped. Either Coreen felt ready to come out, or she had run out of hot water.

Of course, Mike and Henry sniping at each other was about as normal as you could get. Maybe she should have encouraged them. "Mu shu?"

Henry blinked at the _non sequitur_ , but Mike picked up the thread without missing a beat. "Chicken and pork."

"Good answer."

"Like you'd even let me in the door without both."

"She'll probably want the chicken," Vicki advised, waving at the collection of bags on the coffee table. "And spring rolls. Find the spring rolls. I'll be right back."

Her knock on the bathroom door was answered by a chipper "Just a minute!"

"Coreen, it's me. Figured you might need a hand with that dressing."

"No, I've got -- oh. You mean the gauze, don't you? Sure, come on in."

Dressed in Vicki's black yoga pants and grey long-sleeved t-shirt, damp hair parted neatly and combed down to frame fresh-scrubbed skin, Coreen looked like a completely different young woman from the one who had entered the bathroom in last night's bloodstained dress and smudged makeup, hangover-groggy despite nearly sixteen hours of sleep. Whether the shadowy circles under her eyes told of her ordeal or simply of how much concealer she normally used was impossible to judge.

She had already been trying to handle the dressing herself. Three gauze pads were opened and laid out on top of their paper wrappers on the vanity, and she held out her left arm for Vicki's inspection, sleeve pushed up to her elbow and Neosporin slathered over the scratches.

"It doesn't look too bad now," she told Vicki brightly. "I wasn't looking forward to explaining scars to my mom next time I see her, but hopefully I won't have to." With a wry smile, she added, "She's still convinced 'goth' equals 'troubled kid,' and just _knows_ she's going to find out any day that I'm self-injuring or doing drugs or voting NDP." Vicki glanced up questioningly from tearing off a length of tape, and Coreen shook her head. "Don't ask."

 _Or dropping out of university?_ That was what Vicki wasn't asking. She hadn't thought about it in a while, her initial curiosity having faded quickly in the face of her assistant's surprising competence. If Coreen and school just didn't fit, at least she was unlikely to be left without options. The rare mention of her family brought it to mind again, but this was hardly the time to question her about it.

"Okay," she said instead, pulling Coreen's sleeve down, "you're set. Ready for something to eat?"

"Twist my arm! Or... wait. Actually, don't."

Leaving Mike and Henry alone for five minutes had produced the inevitable result. As she and Coreen entered the room, Mike was scoffing, "This from the guy who exists because people thought it was a good idea to send a fifteen-year-old girl to sleep with the king."

"He did _not_ just say that," Coreen said under her breath.

Mike didn't seem to have heard her, but Henry certainly had, and glanced in their direction before turning his attention back to Mike. "Tell me, Detective, have you moved on to books yet, or are you still working your way through Wikipedia?"

There was a hard edge under his flippant tone, and Vicki suspected Mike had crossed more of a line than he intended. But it went no further, at least for the moment, as Henry turned dismissively away from him, pulling the chair a bit away from the coffee table and angling it out with a gesture for Coreen to take the seat.

"Thank you."

It was clear she referred to more than the small courtesy of the chair, and Henry answered in kind. "You're welcome."

The last thing she needed was three mother hens standing around staring at her. Vicki plunked herself unceremoniously on the couch and grabbed the nearest eggroll. "Dig in, people. It's not getting any fresher."

Coreen needed no further encouragement and, true to Vicki's prediction, was cheerfully glopping plum sauce onto a mu shu pancake by the time Mike had made it around the coffee table to sit next to Vicki. Henry remained standing, moving close to the wall so he was no longer directly behind Coreen and she could address him over her shoulder. When she wasn't looking his way, though, he watched her intently. Whatever he was looking for, it seemed unlikely he would see it, as she downed a respectable share of the food and chattered away as if she had suffered nothing worse than a nasty headache.

It was Mike who finally slid the not-quite-casual-sounding question into the small talk. "So, Coreen, if an officer wanted to talk to you about what happened last night, would you be ready for that?"

"I... Sure. Of course." She seemed surprised, but not shaken. "Does that mean you -- I mean, Craig..."

"He turned himself in," Mike said, flicking a glance at Henry. It was more or less true, according to what he had told Vicki. "They won't need very much from you."

"Well, that's good, because I don't remember very much." Coreen spoke lightly, but behind her, Henry's frown broadcast his skepticism. "Which is _really_ annoying, because apparently there was a demon, and I missed the entire thing even though I was there."

"Oh, yeah, it was a real party." Vicki shook her head. "Okay, well, as long as you leave out the part about the demon --"

"Hey! You know I know better than that!"

"-- that's the story they'll expect to hear. It's the same one they've heard a hundred times. If they haven't had too bad a day, they should be tactful enough not to say you were lucky. At least not where you can hear them."

"I _was_ lucky." The quiet sincerity of the statement stood in stark contrast to the bubbly nervous energy of a moment before. "I had you guys looking out for me."

Henry acknowledged this with a polite nod but said nothing. Maybe he was as much at a loss for a reply as Vicki was and just better at making it look like there was no need to give one. Or maybe there really wasn't.

Then the moment was over, and Coreen was all spunk and sparkle again, chattering about nothing in particular, then commandeering a couple more spring rolls for the road and pressing Mike to open his fortune cookie on their way out.

When the door was closed behind them and their voices had faded down the stairs, Vicki turned to Henry. "And, once again, that which does not kill her makes her perkier." She sighed. "You don't buy it, do you?"

"I wish I could. I have no doubt that what she remembers is confusing, but she was lying when she said she doesn't remember."

Vicki considered this for a moment. "If we think she can't remember, she doesn't have to talk about it. If she doesn't have to talk about it, she doesn't have to think about it."

Henry nodded. "It would be in keeping."

"With what?"

"Her lover was slaughtered by a demon while she listened, Vicki. When was the last time she mentioned his name?"

For a few seconds, she just stared at him. "Well. That was...obvious. Or should have been."

"We all have our blind spots."

"Yeah. Too bad I can't trade them in as compensation for the literal ones. But hey," she added brightly, "we might make a detective out of you yet. That's some pretty sharp observation of someone you spend a lot of energy pointedly ignoring."

"Observing people is essential to my livelihood. And just because I don't want her in my bed doesn't mean I don't want her to be safe."

Vicki raised her eyebrows. When he spoke that bluntly, there was usually a reason. "That job just got harder, didn't it?"

"This incident could draw other evil to her, yes." Taking her hands, Henry turned them palm-up, thumbs stroking her wrists. "Not all marks are as obvious as yours."

"Great." She blew out a sigh. "So now what? It's not like we can send her to a convent."

"As amusing as that image may be," he agreed. "I don't know. Maybe it doesn't really change anything. One more lure next to many -- curiosity, innocence, compassion..."

"Everything that makes her Coreen." She pulled away from him, leaning against the desk. "Well, except persistence. Do the things-that-go-bump get off on that too? God knows I'm a sucker for it. Maybe I shouldn't have hired her in the first place."

"Maybe she was meant to find you."

"If you're going to start talking destiny again -- "

"All I'm saying is that you became involved with the supernatural because of her, not the other way round."

"That's not her fault!"

"Of course not. But you still shouldn't forget it. If you hadn't been who you are, if you had turned her away..." He looked down for a moment, then back up at her, deadly serious. "I wouldn't have found Bridewell in time on my own. He almost certainly would have succeeded in calling Astaroth forth. And the object of his obsession would have been the first to be enslaved or die."

Vicki crossed her arms, unable to suppress a shudder at the image. "I didn't know any of that when I took her case."

"No. But you took it, for the same reason you always do: No one else would listen." Opening his hands wide to indicate the room, he went on, "Last night, when I saw what was happening... Why do you think I brought her here?"

"Because you just had your floors cleaned?"

"Because she needed you. She had to summon the will to defy a demon when she's still learning who she is. Who she wants to be. Infatuation notwithstanding, I'm not the one she's learning from."

With a short laugh, Vicki replied, "Okay, now I _know_ I shouldn't have hired her. How am I qualified to be anybody's role model?"

"Somehow, I think you'll manage." He was smiling, but his tone was serious again as he went on. "You lecture me about your obligation to those you serve. Don't forget your obligation to those who serve you."

She cocked her head curiously at him. "That sounds like old advice."

"I was installed in my own household at the age of six," he reminded her. "It's one of the first lessons I remember. I have yet to see it proven false."

"Well, this isn't much of a 'household,' but I get it. Take care of our own."

"Essentially the same sentiment. Old advice?"

"Yeah. And if you'd told me the first time I heard it just who would end up qualifying as my own..."

The thought hung there for a long moment, until Henry asked, "Do you regret expanding the category?"

"No," Vicki answered without thinking, then confirmed it when the thinking caught up. "No. Wonder about my sanity, yes. Occasionally tear my hair out. Not regret."

"Good. But try to avoid tearing your hair out," he added with a smile, sliding his fingers along the loose wave next to her face. "I like it where it is."

"Uh-huh." She had a feeling her answering smile wasn't as sarcastic as she intended. "I'll remind you of that next time you're the one driving me to it."

"I'm sure you will." He had leaned in close enough to set her nerves buzzing, and now he surprised her by pulling back a little. "And on that note, did you get any rest today?"

"Does putting my head down on the desk for about two hours count?" His eyebrows went up, and she conceded, "Didn't think so. Come on, Henry, my bed was occupied. And I was just a little worried about the occupant."

"Granted. There's a certain advantage to being unable to stay up even if I wanted to." He pulled away from her with obvious reluctance. "I should leave you to it, then."

"Thanks."

"Of course." He crossed the room and reached for the doorknob, then turned back around. "She'll be all right, Vicki."

"Yeah. If we're lucky, she might even make it to twenty-five."

"I'd like to see that." He pulled the door open. "Good night."

"Good night."

Yawning, she went over to lock the door behind him. She'd like to see that too. She wondered sometimes if she'd be there to see it. But if any of them went down, they'd go down fighting, and looking out for each other. That was the best anyone could do.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [What We Cannot Have [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3620517) by [tinypinkmouse_podfic (tinypinkmouse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypinkmouse/pseuds/tinypinkmouse_podfic)




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